it leads to each other, we become ourselves
by possibilist
Summary: 'They spend their hours together curled up in the tiny dorm bed, intertwined and alive and doing so much more than just existing.' Three times Rachel sees Quinn's room. Post On My Way, Yale, future stuff. Happy Faberry drabble fluff.


summary: 'They spend their hours together curled up in the tiny dorm bed, intertwined and alive and doing so much more than just existing.' Three times Rachel sees Quinn's room. Post On My Way, Yale, future stuff. Happy Faberry fluff.

an (1): so i had surgery yesterday, and this is a fluffy, morphine-clouded, uber happy Faberry drabble. Although I wasn't on morphine when I wrote it. It's probably coherent. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this very much. please review or something, you know. a million thanks! Xxx

an (2): i mention these so... "Summer Cold" by Big Deal and "I Have Never Loved Someone" by My Brightest Diamond.

* * *

><p>it leads to each other (we become ourselves)<p>

.

the passing of time was the lightest of brushes. life was ungraspable because it would not stay still. it skittered and blew. it was a mound of random trash, even as you moved through the hours like a ghost invited to enjoy a sparkling day at the beach.

—_a gate at the stairs _by lorrie moore

...

one. _they collected the world in small handfuls (when the sky grew dark they parted with leaves in their hair)_

.

The first time Rachel sees Quinn's room is when Quinn is still in the hospital. She gave Rachel a list of a few things she needed when Rachel offered to go, and now Rachel is here, opening the door and breathing in Quinn's perfume and the unmistakable smell of books.

The first thing that Rachel knows is that, for some reason, the unremarkable space is incredible. Quinn's shelves are crammed with books, not in any orderly fashion, and Rachel combs through their spines, running her fingers along them. Quinn has books about _everything_—physics, philosophy, political science—none of which they'd studied in school, Rachel was sure. Quinn has a collection of fairytales, and she has so much poetry it makes Rachel's head spin, authors she's never heard of. There are lots of books about writing, and all of these have creases in the spines and earmarked pages and Quinn has even underlined things.

There's a whole shelf dedicated to a host of novels, some of which they actually had read for English. All of them are worn, and some of them have coffee stains on them, or tea. Rachel finds herself marveling at how much Quinn actually must _know_.

There's a record player in the corner of the room, next to three unceremonious plastic crates of records. There are lots of new ones—Florence and the Machine, Mumford and Sons, Bon Iver, Lana Del Rey—but there are old ones, too—Joni Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt, Billie Holliday, The Beatles. These make Rachel smile.

Above the record player, there's a painting, one that Rachel doesn't recognize, although it's beautiful: thick, undaunting brushstrokes of inferences and hope and pain. In the lower right corner, _f Fabray _is signed. Rachel knows it's from Quinn's sister, and this nearly makes her heart break and burst all at once.

There's a book face down on Quinn's desk, open to a page. Rachel debates picking it up but decides to first turn on the record player, for whatever reason. It's called _Lights Out _by Big Deal, an album she doesn't know by a band she's never heard of—which, by now, doesn't surprise her—and it's on the B-side, which Rachel doesn't bother to change. The needle hits the vinyl and it's beautiful, though, airy and soft and sad.

Rachel thinks of Quinn in the hospital, how she hadn't been planning on having her life stop: the bed is unmade, there's a laundry basket of clothes on the floor by her closet, neatly folded but not yet put away. A record on its B-side. A book open.

Rachel starts to cry, then, softly, because _what if Quinn had died? _

Rachel picks up the book on Quinn's desk. It's _A Fault in Our Stars _by John Green, and Rachel sits down at the chair as her tears come harder and she reads the page Quinn had tabbed. _What else? _it says, _She is so beautiful. You don't get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don't get to choose if you get hurt, in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. _

Rachel stops reading then because she can't see anymore, and in the desk chair in Quinn's room, surrounded by Quinn's things, she puts her hand to her mouth and sobs.

Then she looks up, for a second, and realises everything she ever needs to know: on Quinn's desk there are two post-it note lists: one labelled _homework for the weekend (DO IT!) _with little checkboxes next to all of Quinn's assignments for the upcoming week, and the other with _things to tell people (rachel) _scripted on top. Rachel's breath comes out in shaky puffs and the Big Deal album scratches to a halt in the background, and she hears her own heart mirror its unsteady thumps.

Because the list only says one thing: _I love you_.

.

When Rachel goes back to the hospital, her eyes red and her chest full, with an Anthropologie bag with six pairs of underwear in it, she sits down by Quinn, who is, of course, reading.

Rachel smiles and tears stream down her cheeks but she says, "I love you. I _love _you."

Quinn just stares at her for a few seconds, but then happy laughter bubbles out of her lips and she says, "I love you, too."

They laugh and cry at the same time, messily and ungracefully, fluid, unfolding into new life, free from their cocoons.

...

two. _the fallacy of merely existing (let her become)_

_._

Quinn's roommate for the last two years, Hazel, meets Rachel in the lobby of Yale-New Haven hospital.

"Is she okay?" she asks hurriedly as Hazel gives her a hug.

"She's totally fine."

"She's _not _fine," Rachel says as she pushes the 'up' button for the elevator seven times, "because she's in the hospital."

They get on the elevator and Hazel smiles at Rachel. "Quinn will be _fine_, Rachel." The door dings and opens. Hazel gets off, Rachel following closely. They walk down the hallway.

When Hazel had called her earlier in the morning to say that Quinn was feeling really sick and had a fever of 103 and that she'd gone to the hospital, Rachel's heart had nearly dropped beneath her feet. She'd gotten on the train to New Haven immediately.

The smell of the hospital is already making Rachel sick, but Hazel moves quickly and they get to the room Quinn's staying in.

Rachel pauses for a second in the doorway, because Quinn's sitting up in bed, smiling, laughing with Hazel's boyfriend, Stephen. There's an IV taped into the crook of her arm and she's in a hospital gown and there's a hospital bracelet around one of her dainty wrists, but she really is okay.

Quinn looks up when she hears them. Her entire face lights up when she sees Rachel.

"Hi," she says, her voice scratchy.

Rachel smiles and a few tears slip down her cheeks, which makes Quinn frown.

"God, you're so dramatic," she says, motioning for Rachel to come sit down on the bed with her.

Hazel smiles at Stephen and he stands. "We'll see you tomorrow, Quinn," he says. "I think you're covered."

Quinn nods, happy, and kisses him on the cheek. "Thanks so much for everything," she says.

Hazel takes Stephen's hand. "Feel better, Quinn," she says, and they leave quietly.

Rachel climbs on the bed, tucking Quinn's body against hers. "Are you really okay?"

Quinn nods. "They said I have pneumonia, but I'm good. I feel much better than this morning for sure," she says, then laughs. "I got lost walking from the dorms to here."

Rachel tries not to laugh, imagining a very disoriented Quinn wandering around Yale, even though it really isn't funny.

Rachel relaxes slightly, putting her head against Quinn's shoulder. "You scared me." She gestures to the room. "Seeing you in the hospital scares me."

Quinn kisses her temple. "I'm sorry."

Rachel shakes her head. "It wasn't your fault you got pneumonia."

Quinn laughs. "This is true."

"I love you. Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Quinn kisses her softly. "Yes."

Rachel puts a hand up to Quinn's cheek. "I missed you."

"Me too."

Rachel whispers, "What'd you do to your hair?"

"It took you a while to comment. I thought that would've been the first thing you said."

"At least it's not pink."

"Oh, that can be arranged."

Rachel shakes her head. "Please no."

Quinn laughs.

Rachel smiles, her fingers going through the soft, short hairs at the back of Quinn's neck. "I think I like it."

"Weird," Quinn says, "because that's how I feel about you."

"You really are okay," Rachel says.

Quinn squeezes her hand. "I am."

.

There's a picture of them on Quinn's desk, on their first "real" date, smiling and young, the scars on Quinn's cheek still red and just starting to fade. Now, Rachel can barely see them.

Quinn sighs as she climbs in bed, already out of breath from the walk in the cold back to her dorm. As always, her books are everywhere, and this is something Rachel will always love.

Rachel sits down on the edge of Quinn's bed, runs her hand along the scar on Quinn's cheek, leans down and kisses her.

They spend their hours together curled up in the tiny dorm bed, intertwined and alive and doing so much more than just existing.

...

three. _forever and ever i love you (and that's enough)_

.

"She's beautiful," Rachel says, looking down into the crib.

Quinn nods, leaning into Rachel's side.

Rachel takes Quinn's hand and then they kiss softly. "Out of all of the things I've ever seen you put in a room, this is by far the best decorating decision you've ever had."

Quinn laughs. "You just compared our daughter to a painting or something."

Rachel shakes her head. "She's perfect, Quinn."

"She is."

.

In the middle of the night, their daughter starts crying. Quinn stirs but Rachel kisses her softly. "I'll get her."

Quinn nods and turns back into her pillow.

Rachel goes to the little nursery down the hall. "Alice," she coos, picking up the tiny baby, her tuft of blond hair soft against Rachel's cheek.

Rachel sits down in the rocking chair next to the crib, marvels at Alice's little face as she rocks her gently. "You look just like your mommy," Rachel whispers. "Your mommy is beautiful, so that's a good thing."

Alice's eyes start to drift closed.

"Your mommy tells stories, did you know that? One day she'll tell you all about how we fell in love, and how much fun we had learning about one another, and all of the places we've been together. She'll tell you about all of the things she knows, which will take a long time, because she knows so many things. You'll be smart like her, Alice."

"I think you're a pretty good storyteller, too," Quinn says, and Rachel looks towards the doorway where she's leaning, bathed in the moonlight.

"I've learned from the best."

Quinn smiles, going to Rachel and taking Alice from her gently. Quinn kisses her on the forehead and then puts her back in the crib, turning towards Rachel, who is standing near the rocking chair.

"Sing with me?" Quinn asks.

Rachel nods, and she takes Quinn's hand and squeezes as they sing "I Have Never Loved Someone" by My Brightest Diamond to their daughter, the sound, sleeping little form beneath them, perfect and beautiful and whole.

* * *

><p>references (books! all of which are incredible and will make you cry):<p>

title. _Just Kids _by Patti Smith.

one. _A History of Love _by Nicole Krauss.

two. _Super Sad True Love Story _by Gary Shteyngart.

three. _Invisible Monsters _by Chuck Palahniuk.

mentioned (and worth reading). _A Fault in Our Stars _by John Green.

(and yes, Alice is from Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_. youmeandcharlie nerds, have a ball with that one.)


End file.
